


Lend me your ear

by Synekdokee



Category: Shame - Fandom, penelope - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synekdokee/pseuds/Synekdokee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who said a storm can't bring people closer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lend me your ear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kageillusionz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageillusionz/gifts).



> For Kage-butt's autumn extravaganza prompt. Ilu, Strudel.

”We recommend people stay inside until the storm has pa-“

The television cut off with a static snap, going out along with the lights and the electric heater.

“Shit.” Johnny got up from his lumpy sofa, heading to the fuse box and flipping the switches. No use.

Already feeling the loss of the heater, he grabbed a thick coat from a hanger and bundled himself in it. He went to the window. The whole block was dark, barely illuminated, the flats opposite his shakily lit by flickering flashlight beams and candle flames.

With a sigh, he got up, rummaging through the kitchen cupboards for torches and candles, coming up empty.

“Fuck!” He took a deep breath, tugging on his hair in frustration. “Fuck.” He said again, more quietly.

He was going to freeze to death. In a pitch black flat. No one would miss him. No one ever missed starving artists. He’d be found as a human popsicle. He didn’t care that it was still warm enough for the rain hammering his window to be in liquid form – he had not been built for cold temperatures.

He wanted tea. Hot tea. He moved towards the stove, and then jerked to a halt.

Electric stove.

His roar echoed in the flat.

Johnny slumped morosely on his sofa, tucking his legs beneath himself to keep them warm. Rain was pattering against the window. His flat looked strange. It had never been this pitch-black, the city lights always illuminating the nooks and crannies, casting shadows through the windows.

It was quieter than normal as well, the hum and click of electric appliances muted.

Dragging a blanket over himself, Johnny settled into the corner of the sofa, planning to nap. Maybe the electricity would be back by the time he woke up.

He was half-dozing when someone knocked on his door. He jerked away, fumbling around fuzzily until he was free of the blanket, stumbling to the door. He yanked it open and was momentarily blinded by light. He squinted at the man standing in his doorway, holding a MagLite. They looked familiar. Johnny didn’t easily forget a face like that.

He let his gaze trail over the man’s broad shoulders, his chest, waist and trim hips, all the way to his crotch. It hit him.

“You live in the flat down the hall,” Johnny blurted.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. I never introduced myself.” He offered Johnny his hand. “Brandon Sullivan.”

“Aaah. Right! Johnny Martin.” He took Brandon’s hand and shook it firmly. “Nice to meet you. Um.”

Brandon lifted up a thermos can. “I’ve got hot chocolate. I was making it just before the power went out. Figured I might as well share it.”

“Oh! Excellent,” Johnny said, opening the door wider and ushering Brandon in.

“I’m sorry about the darkness, I can’t find any candles.”

Brandon stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Just a second,” he said, before darting out. Johnny heard the door at the end of the hallway open. He waited, and soon Brandon came back, pushing the door closed behind himself. He was carrying an unopened packet of tealights, and two larger candles that looked like the ones one took to the graveyard.

“I got them Halloween,” Brandon shrugged, setting the candles down and lighting them with Johnny’s help.

“Not that we get many Trick-Or-Treaters around here.”

They lit the candles one by one, setting them in small clusters around the flat until everything was bathed in a dim golden glow. The candles cast flickering shadows over Brandon’s face, highlighting his sharp features. Johnny had to make a conscious effort to not stare at the man.

Motioning for his guest to sit down, Johnny fetched a few mugs from the kitchen, along with a packed of dry biscuits and some grapes.

They settled on the sofa in awkward silence.

“Sooo…” said Johnny, sipping his cup of blissfully hot cocoa.

Brandon hummed softly, cradling his own mug in his palms.

“Listen,” Brandon said, setting the mug in his hand.

“I didn’t show up just because I was being neighbourly.”

Johnny shrugged. “’s’long as you didn’t come here to turn this into a Halloween murder mystery.”

Brandon laughed, a surprised bark. “No, that… isn’t really what I go for,” he said, smiling wryly. “I was thinking. I’ve seen you around. I meant to ask if you’d like to have coffee with me some day but… well.” He made a self-deprecating motion with his hands. “Here we are.”

“Well, technically it’s hot chocolate, not coffee, but yes. Very smooth of you.”

Brandon gave him a smirk. “Smooth enough to get you in the bedroom?”

Johnny stared at him. “Wow. You’re. Pretty forward, aren’t you.”

“It works,” Brandon shrugged. “I don’t mean to be rude. I’ve simply found that it works better when you’re honest about what you want. No one gets mislead.”

“Huh,” Johnny said. “Well.” He got up and started picking up candles. “Are you going to help me move this into the bedroom or what?”

 

 --

Three hours later the electricity was still down. Brandon was dozing, arms wrapped firmly around Johnny, warming him pleasantly. Johnny was watching the flickering candle flames, thinking of music and wishing he had some sheet paper to jot the notes down on. Getting out of the sex-warmed bed was not an option. He rolled to his back, hand on Brandon’s wrist to keep his arms still. The rain had stopped and the moon threw slivers of light against the bedroom walls. He traced the patterns in his mind, feeling his mind begin to drift, until he was asleep.

 

Morning dawned grey and blessedly warm. The sky was steely, the streets outside wet with the night’s rain, littered with leaves and debris. But the electricity was on, and so was the heater.

And, judging by the sounds and smells coming from the kitchen, the stove was working properly too.

Crawling out of bed groggily, Johnny tugged on a pair of sweatpants and padded into the kitchen. There were eggs and bacon frying on the pan, the grease crackling cheerfully. Brandon stood by the window, illuminated by the harsh light.

“You alright,” Johnny asked. Brandon jerked, turning to look at him.

“Ah. Yeah. Made breakfast.” He gestured at the stove.

“Are you always this morose after a night of sex with hot strangers?”

Brandon gave a sharp laugh and gave him a peculiar look. “I don’t usually stick around, to be honest.”

“Ah…”

Instead of commenting further, Johnny started setting up the table, pouring them juice and digging out a non-moldy loaf of bread from the depths of his kitchen.

They ate in awkward silence, Johnny attempting to start a conversation and Brandon responding with as short sentences as he could. Yet Johnny didn’t feel like he was being snubbed. 

By the time they were finished eating, Brandon looked like he was itching to leave. Johnny walked him to the door, politely, though he was starting to feel a little irritated. What a cliché, for a guy to show up to have sex with you and then treat you like that was all that interested them in you.

“Thanks for the breakfast.”

Brandon gave him an evasive look. “It was your food, so… You’re welcome.”

 To hell with it, Johnny thought. “Next time at yours?”

 Brandon stared at him, wide eyed. “Next time?”

 “Sure. I mean, I assumed there’d be a next time..? Unless you don’t want to?”

Brandon dragged a hand over his face. Johnny hadn’t realized how tired the man looked until now.

 “I don’t really do this,” Brandon said quietly. “I mean the… sticking around bit. I wasn’t sure if you-“

 He took a deep breath. “You want to do this again? I should warn you, I’m not really good with people.”

 Johnny laughed. “I’m  not exactly the poster boy for that either but uh. Last night was good. Really good, if you know what I mean.” He smiled slyly at Brandon, relieved when it got a laugh out of him.

 “Ah, why not. Tomorrow? If you’re free.”

 “I’m a struggling musician, I’m always free.”

 “I’ve heard you play, some evenings,” Brandon said, smiling softly. “Maybe you could play for me?”

 Johnny flushed and rubbed his neck. “Sure. Tomorrow?”

 “Tomorrow,” Brandon said, nodding.

 Grinning, Johnny closed the door behind Brandon. He grabbed some paper and settled at the piano. He needed a new piece by tomorrow.


End file.
